


Burn From the Inside Out

by goalielove43



Series: Nest with the Best [1]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety, Bonding, Condoms, Friendship, Frottage, Goalie Nesting (Hockey RPF), Loneliness, M/M, Oral Sex, Vegas Golden Knights, Washington Capitals, emotional anquish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25114882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goalielove43/pseuds/goalielove43
Summary: It was hot. Everything felt vaguely itchy, but not quite enough to want to scratch it. Physically, Flower feltuncomfortable. That was about the only word for it. It was like a muscle cramp that hadn't quite happened yet; the kind where you knew if you moved the wrong way you'd have a Charlie horse for days. Except when he moved, the sensation stayed the same.
Relationships: Marc-Andre Fleury/Alexander Ovechkin
Series: Nest with the Best [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825990
Comments: 10
Kudos: 84





	Burn From the Inside Out

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [PuckingRare2020](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2020) collection. 



> For Pucking Rare - A Hockey Rarepair Challenge.  
>  **I only found the challenge on 7/5/2020 and so many of the prompts set off my absolute desire to write them. I managed to squeak one in under the wire, but others... I didn't. I can only hope the requestors see their pairs in the tags and will find them.**  
>  Request from Anon:  
> Goalie nesting verse. Flower has always nested with his captain. Now he doesn't have one. It gets awkward when this nesting period latches onto the captain of the team they're playing against.  
> Fun fact, I had seen one fic about nesting waaaaay back at the start of my reading RPF in Hockey Fandom. I was confused then and I'm probably still sorta confused, but I read up on a few more nesting fics last night to see what this was all about and well... maybe I'm a little _hooked_. (Heh, accidental puns...) So I think it's a great trope and I'm 100% here for it. Here's hoping I did it justice! (Double fun fact... I know quite a bit about Flower, tons about any Cap you want to toss at me, and nothing about anyone on the Golden Knights except Lehner who kind of came after I wanted to set this, so... forgive the lack of any nicknames or character flaws or really any of that on behalf of the rest of the team.)

It was hot. Everything felt vaguely itchy, but not quite enough to want to scratch it. Physically, Flower felt _uncomfortable_. That was about the only word for it. It was like a muscle cramp that hadn't quite happened yet; the kind where you knew if you moved the wrong way you'd have a Charlie horse for days. Except when he moved, the sensation stayed the same. It crawled and writhed under his skin, a hot, bothering sort of malaise that didn't register on anything as so much as existing. He wasn't sweating profusely, he didn't have a rash, the trainers said he was hydrated just fine and his potassium levels were great. His nose wasn't running, he didn't feel sick to his stomach, and nothing added up to anything anyone could pin down.

All the same, Flower felt like shit. Not the level of shit where you stayed home and rolled around in bed, but the kind you forced yourself to drag your shambling corpse through until it stopped. Which, wasn't great. It probably wasn't great for anyone, but Flower imagined it was worse for someone whose job it was to stand in front of flying chunks of rubber and toss themselves around for extended periods of time. He forced himself through his workouts, slogged through practice with the other guys, and generally felt like a dried up turd sandwich.

Two days into the same bullshit, he found himself becoming forgetful. Sure, everyone had off days where they'd leave their keys in the car or their wallet at home or somehow put their cell phone in the crisper drawer. But when you'd managed all of that plus literally forgotten to go to your actual job... he suspected it added up to something far worse than he'd originally thought. He'd located his phone because the fridge kept ringing and been told off for missing practice until he flat out told everyone just how miserable he was and claimed he'd been sleeping all morning. He hadn't, but telling the he'd lost his damn mind seemed less than preferable.

Instead, he booked an appointment with their team doctor and somehow managed to get himself to the rink to get checked out. He was poked and prodded, his temperature taken several times, swabs and blood and urine samples were collected and sent off, and he was told he was benched until they figured it out. 

What surprised him the most was that he didn't actually mind. He trained at home, forewent any contact with the rest of the team for fear he had some strange virus he could give them, and generally sat staring at the wall in front of him like it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

Two more days came and went and all results came back clean, nothing to worry about. The words "probably some bug" were offered multiple times and he had no choice but to accept them and move on. The discomfort, the heat, the general ache in his entire body remained. His memory seemed to wrap itself around the short term and pre-planned routines. If anything deviated, he was lost, adrift in a sea of nothingness until someone found him and anchored him.

They were mid-flight to Washington DC when everything flipped on a dime for him. He went from so hot he had to remind himself not to strip to absolutely freezing. The ache inside his body turned to a thousand fluttering, buzzing microscopic hummingbirds zooming around under his skin. On went his hoodie and then his coat and by the time they landed, he had three blankets that he staunchly refused to give up wrapped around his frame. Yet, he was still absolutely frozen. 

At the hotel, he managed to make himself get out from under all the clothes and blankets and get in the shower, turning it on full blast and all the way to hot, though it did little other than tinge his skin with red. The cold wasn't on the outside, it seemed. Again, he spoke with the team's doctors, again he was poked and prodded and examined and told they could scratch him for tonight's game if he wanted, but they could find no good reason to do it in any of his tests. Plus, he wasn't vomiting or having any other distressing symptoms, so he probably wasn't contagious. It'd be fine.

He told himself it would be fine and quietly left himself as starting goalie for the evening. 

He brought his blankets with him to the arena, having added one from the foot of the bed in his hotel room. He probably looked absolutely mental, but he figured the rumors about strange goalie shit were so prominent that fans even knew about them. Everyone would probably blame it on that and move on.

It came time to get out on the ice and it was the hardest thing he'd ever done to unwrap himself from his blankets and take his frozen self out onto the ice. Once there, he eased up some, though he was still bitterly cold and absolutely uncomfortable. The team still kept up their usual routine, though he took note that they didn't seem as interested in hitting him with their shots as they normally did. Either they were worried too or they were just being protective of him since he claimed he didn't feel well. Whichever thing it was, Flower was okay with it since it meant he'd reserve his energy for the game.

Moving to center ice, he settled into a stretch. He sat there, feeling like he was wavering and wondering if he was. Someone skated up to him and went to stretching beside him before clearing their throat. He glanced over to find the Capital's goalie - Holtby - watching him with a concerned expression. "Rumor has it you're starting to nest... why do they have you out here tonight?"

Flower blinked at him, something that felt like complete certainty laying itself down over his entire body.

"You didn't know? Have you seen the trainers, the team doctor, anyone?"

Flower nodded. "I have. They all cleared me. I suspect they think it's in my head. But... this isn't what nesting is supposed to be like. I've only seen two guys do it and both were... well... mean. I don't feel like I'm angry or being mean to anyone."

"It doesn't have to manifest that way." Holtby sighed. "You'd think they'd offer a damn manual with this shit, but they don't. As far as I can tell it's entirely dependent on how you feel, what your strongest emotional need is in regards to your team. If you feel attacked or on edge then sure, you'd probably start lashing out like the guys you were talking about. But say you feel like you're lacking support or comfort or something big has changed in your hockey life that maybe you don't like then it's going to come out differently. I've had two in my time. My first was in Juniors."

Holtby shifted positions and Flower did, too, just to keep up appearances of them just being friendly and stretching together for the fans.

"That first one was angry. Mean would have been an understatement. I felt like the guys were talking behind my back, had overheard some of them doing it, was utterly convinced coach had it out for me... that kind of shit. It manifested and I basically went apeshit on anyone who would come near me. The second one was entirely different. I'd been called up and it had felt _fantastic_. The world was bright, everything was right, and then... they sent me back down to the minors. Everything crashed and burned around me. I hadn't been expecting it and I felt lost and rejected and unwanted by either team and it triggered it. It was slower to take hold but I'd say more powerful overall. Weeks of discomfort, aches and pains and temperature issues no thermometer could tell me existed. Our team doctor told me what was happening that time and I just... let it happen. That time, I was all about needing reassurance. I wanted people to nest with me. I'd beg and plead and try to drag them back to my nest with me. I just wanted reassurance someone cared and it entirely refused to stop until I got what I was looking for. One guy with a complete lack of reluctance. One guy who stayed with me and worried about me and fussed over me as much as I was fussing over him and when he didn't leave after the first day, it finally broke."

Holtby stood as his team began streaming off the ice, offered his hand and Flower accepted it, standing and studying him. "So the second one... it's rare, right? Maybe why no one could tell me what was happening?"

Holtby nodded. "Yeah, it is. I won't lie to you and tell you it's not painful, because it is. It hurts like your world is crushing you from the inside out until you find someone willing to help you." He turned away and then stopped. "Just a tip, it's never who you think it will be."

Flower murmured his thanks and turned to trail after his team off the ice, waving to a few fans who were holding up a sign with his name on it. He clomped down the tunnel and into the dressing room and flopped in his stall. He'd have to tell the trainers after the game, let them know everything Holtby had told him so they could be prepared in case he ditched off the deep end on the plane or something. 

He didn't really listen to the pep talk or the advice Coach gave them. Rather, he let his mind drift over why he'd be falling into the first nest of his life right now. When he'd left the Penguins and been okay, he'd sort of assumed that he just wasn't going to be one to nest. After all, that had been painful. It was a move he didn't want to make, one he had no choice in, and he'd been dumped on a team with zero cohesion directly off of one that was so tight-knit that they had trouble at times remembering which house was their own. 

But now, here he was, years later, drifting off toward nesting... but why? He picked back over Braden's words, found himself stuck on the realization that he'd said it had to do with your hockey emotions and in one instant was presented with his answer. They were Captainless. For the first time in all his career, he had no Captain and their Assistant hadn't stepped up into the position, feeling like he wasn't ready, and Flower had always relied on his Captains. Heavily so when it had been Crosby and probably more so when he moved to the Golden Knights. Now he was adrift without an anchor, chuffed about by the whims of the team and the staff without anyone to put their foot down if things went sideways. 

The thought brought tears to sting the backs of his eyes and he blinked them away, angry with himself for letting his thoughts drift so far while he was in the middle of the locker room right before a game. He tried to focus, to narrow himself down into a state of pre-game singularity, but that felt just as hopeless as the rest of this did. 

By the time they filed back out onto the ice for the anthem, he felt like he was going to tip over into nesting at any second. He was in flux between too hot and too cold, tingly and achy, hyper-focused and entirely unable to focus. He gritted his teeth and went to the net anyway. They'd pull him if they had to, but he'd be damned if he asked for it.

The game started and the Caps drove hard for the net, right out of the gate. He batted the puck away and gloved the rebound in a fit of annoyance at the first time not having been enough. They restarted and his team won the face-off, taking off down the ice with it in the opposite direction, then veering wildly into the boards with it.

Flower glowered at the proceedings, watching the puck and muttering to himself about maybe working together once in a while. The team retrieved it and proceeded toward Holtby where he deflected the first, second, and even third attempts before they landed themselves in face-off land again. 

When the puck came back toward him, Flower's anger spiked irrationally. He suddenly hated the little black disk, hated everything about it, and he hit it with such force it went sailing off past his team and they had to go chasing it down. 

He took a few more whacks at the puck when it came back by him, his blood slowly ceasing to boil. In its place a certain melancholy took hold, a listless feeling where he was just utterly convinced they were going to lose playing like this. His mind told him it left him and only him as the one to save today. Not just the game, but everything about today rode on his shoulders, on his ability to make the save. It felt too heavy, like chains dragging him down, a physical sensation of weight that didn't exist and in the end, he just stood there and watched the puck go into his net. If he failed now, he'd just failed under his own terms and conditions, not anyone else's. So he stood there and watched and when his boys crowded around to ask what the fuck had just happened, he just stood there, taking in all the words, the hate, the anger, let it sink into his skin and tissue and bones and live inside him. One mistake was all it took to lose their loyalty. This was the proof he'd always assumed.

He thought then of the Penguins, of how Sid would have been a little angry, but he'd have come to see why Flower had stood still. He wouldn't have barked cruel words at him first, he'd have asked what was going on, wanted an assessment of the situation and if Flower hadn't answered, he would have deemed something very wrong. He imagined all the rest of the team, all their concerned faces and then he looked at the sea of angry faces staring at him. 

"Hey... hey, move." Someone's Russian accent rose above the continued onslaught of angry comments and the sea of pissed off players parted to reveal one very concerned looking Alex Ovechkin. A few of the guys tried to shove back, but Ovie just ignored them, coming to a stop in front of Flower. "Holts say you are going into nest, yes?"

Flower's shoulders drooped as he nodded. It was so obvious now, the jumping emotions, the manifestation of his emotions into physical issues no one could track. It was rather like anxiety in that and the similarity to how he'd heard anxiety described burned down into his soul. Nesting... was goalie anxiety, that's all there was to it. 

A few of the guys started backing up, clearly having dealt with angry goalies before, but it seemed to Flower that not enough of them wore any sort of concerned expression. In fact, the only one who seemed to care at all wasn't even a Golden Knight. He was, through some universal bullshit, the Captain of the very team the Pens had a long-burning rivalry with. Though, he supposed, when he'd become a Golden Knight, he had to leave those projections behind. His team had no beef with the Caps beyond them simply being the opposing team.

Bitter cold began to infuse itself into his body again and he hunched in on himself. Someone slid an arm around his shoulders and for a second he wanted to snap at them, knock their touch away, and then all he could see was a Capital's jersey, up close and personal, and he eased into Ovie's hold like he'd always wanted to be there. He shuddered and then allowed Ovie to remove him from his crease. 

He heard the quiet discussion once they arrived at his bench, the discussion that escalated into not being so quiet at all when Ovie had to argue his point that Flower was very clearly nesting and that they couldn't possibly expect him to finish the game this way or it wouldn't be fair. The instant someone sneered that it wouldn't be fair to the Caps maybe, Ovie's anger became evident.

"You do not care about him! Is obvious! He is nesting and you blindly think you can use him. Nesting goalies are not for using. Use your other one!"

The hug around his shoulders became even more protective and Flower huddled there, curled in against Ovie's side, trembling ever so faintly. This man he barely knew was standing up for him, standing up for what was happening to him when he couldn't. He closed his eyes and the thought sparked bright behind his eyelids that maybe his team didn't have a Captain, but he certainly did.

Flower knew then. He knew he'd found who he needed to nest with, found what he needed for this and it was, perhaps, unfortunate that it wasn't his team, but at least... there was someone.

The conversation continued at a lower volume and finally the trainers tried to pry him from Ovie's arms, talking about setting him up somewhere temporarily until they could get him on a flight home. Panic set in the instant he heard the word flight and he ripped away from them and immediately latched back onto Ovie, huddling against him as his mind started to fog over with pure fear. He gasped for his breath and if he hadn't had his blocker and glove on, he was certain he'd have been clawing at Ovie's uniform, trying to get closer to him.

Ovie's arm slid back around him and he stilled, though his still panted desperately. Somewhere behind the haze, he heard Ovie say, "It seems I am nesting mate. No choice, he will have to stay here until done. Holtz has nest, I take," and then they were moving, Ovie directing him away from the visitor bench and instead through the gate of the home side and down their tunnel. They took a few turns and then Ovie opened a door and flipped on a switch, a very dim light turning on to show an oversized net that had been draped in all kinds of blankets and soft t-shirts and pillows. 

Ovie led Flower to the net and gently installed him, urging him to sit and then kneeling and removing his skates for him. "You stay with us for nest time. I come back after game." He paused and looked up at him. "Promise. I also not tell where nest is so Knights stay out."

Flower nodded, the panic from earlier receding enough to let him think. He swallowed and watched Ovie put his skates to the side. "I come back, remember. Just play game, come get you for shower." Flower nodded again and Ovie stood, retreating through the door, closing it firmly behind him.

Flower sat until he began to feel lonely at which point he stood and paced. Pacing became patrolling and time dimmed itself out as he prowled back and forth in front of his net, feet sliding on the floor as though he were skating in front of his crease. His gaze kept locking on the door at every slight noise, every creak of the settling building, every cheer from the fans above that got loud enough to hear wherever he'd been taken to. 

Someone opened the door at one point and the instant he identified that not only did he not know them, but they were certainly not Ovie, he felt something else take over and he charged toward the door, outright snarling. The door slammed and he skulked in front of it for a while before returning to prowling in front of the net.

It felt like hours before Ovie came back and when he did, Flower couldn't stop himself from rushing to him and immediately tucking himself against him. Once Ovie's arm was around him, he deflated against him, easing there and feeling like all the weight that had been crushing him was gone.

"We shower and come back to nest. You okay to shower with our team, yes?"

Flower shrugged, uncertain about it, but unwilling to leave Ovie's side now that he had him back. He'd much rather they stay with the nest, though honestly, he would have far preferred he have been the one to build the nest to start with. But it also felt... comfortable. Like a good B & B bed, made with care, not as anonymous as a hotel bed, but not home either. It struck him that Braden hadn't gone into his nesting period here according to his story earlier. Which could only mean he had a nest built and ready for anyone who might. Or... perhaps for their other goalie. 

They entered the Capital's locker room and Ovie lead Flower to his own stall, nudging him closer to it and muttering, "Clothes off," before starting to strip. 

"Hey Ovie?" came a tentative voice from somewhere behind them. "You know that's... not our goalie, right?"

"He has chosen nest mate. Does not matter whose team or not." Ovie pressed in closer behind him and Flower felt protected. He kept undressing, carefully shedding his gear and under layers. "Do not crowd him. I know most not deal with nesting goalie before, no gawk at him either." Ovie's arm came around him and steered him toward the showers. 

Flower paused beside Holtby, stood there wondering what would possess a man to build a nest he wouldn't use. He squinted at him, assessing until Holts sighed and put his towel down, sitting on it and staring right back at him. "It's for me. When it's my time to leave here, I won't want to. It's almost inevitable it'll set me off and given it's likely this season, I made it in advance. Rebuild it how you need, I'll have time to fix it later."

Satisfied with the answer, he went when Ovie nudged him toward the showers and went through the routine of washing once he was positioned under the spray. Routine was still easy. Focusing was not. He still felt ill at ease, upset beyond reason. He was still achingly cold and while he'd grown more used to the buzzing inside his body, it still felt like something bigger was about to happen there.

Ovie escorted him back out and to the stall, gave him a towel and Flower just stood, draped in it, dripping on the floor until Ovie sighed and took it from him, rubbing him down with it and tucking a newer, warmer one around him. "You want nest here or my home?"

Everything in Flower screamed that there would be no net there, nothing to guard. Unable to voice it, he began huffing, his hands shaking slightly. 

"Here then. We stay here. Calm." Ovie patted his shoulder. "No extra clothes here, though."

The door opened and Flower's head jerked toward it and like the universe was out to get him, in charged his team doctor.

"There he is! Get your stuff and come, we're heading back to the hotel. Enough of this game, you can choose someone else."

Once more panic took hold, instantly crawling up his throat and unleashing itself as a loud snarl, what was intended as the word _no_ coming out in so many other ways. He shook with the force of it, felt his eyes widening, his body trying to pull itself into something more intimidating than a wet man in a towel could possibly manage, and he squared off with the doctor, anger simmering just below the surface. 

"This is ridiculous, Flower. No one in the history of ever has nested with the opposing team. Do you know how the media is already spinning this? Like we're falling apart and you're transferring to the Capitals next season! That's the last thing we need right now, so get your ass in gear, get your shit, and come on!"

Flower lunged for him and it was only a strong arm hooking around his middle that stopped him from getting to this asshole. Ovie turned them and tucked Flower back against his stall, shoving a practice jersey at him in what was clearly meant to be a means of distraction. It worked because Flower latched onto it and began pulling it on as if he held no control at all over his own actions. Distantly, he heard Ovie's voice, filled with authority, sticking up for him yet again.

"Your goalie is upset. Your whole team upset! He not latch onto them because they confront him like he the problem. No Captain, no union, he feel unsafe there. I show concern you fail to and he latch onto me. Maybe if team give a shit, then he latch there. But no. So you go home, he come back when done. Few days or week. Start other goalie, now go. Out of my locker room!"

Ovie left him briefly and Flower watched as he herded the doctor back out the door. Before it could fully shut, one of the other guys Flower kind of recognized came in holding his bag from the stall he'd been using on the visitor's side. He instantly went for the bag, intent on getting it and the guy backed up, holding it out in front of him.

"Woah, woah, I got it for you, okay?"

Flower snatched the handles from him and retreated back to his station between Ovie and the stall, unzipping his bag and poking around, finding all his stuff inside.

"I had our gear guy tip off your guy and he packed it up on the sly for you. He's good, cares... could choose him next time if the others are still assholes, you know?"

Flower paused, plucked out a pair of jockeys and looked up at the guy who'd brought his bag in, studying him until his mind clicked, informing him his last name was Dowd. Guy was a father he thought... or maybe close to being one? Something vague like that floated in his mind. He nodded, more to that than the running commentary, but Dowd clearly took it as that and disappeared from his field of vision. Flower tugged on his jockeys and then a pair of leggings he kept in the bag. Ovie plied him with a pair of workout shorts from his stash given the number 8 on the lower right leg and he pulled them on eagerly, pleased to be surrounded in Ovie's warmth. He felt less cold like this. 

Ovie packed up his bag and helped Flower gather his gear up to take with him and then led him back to the nest. Ovie settled in and patted the fluffy blanket pile next to him, but Flower felt compelled to ensure his gear was all okay instead. He removed each piece from his bag and arranged it just-so around the nesting area. His helmet went on top of the net and then he stopped, realizing his stick was nowhere to be found. His gaze darted over everything again and again, fog starting to cloud his thinking while he grappled with where on earth it could have gone, when he'd seen it last. His hands grasped at the air like he was holding it as he looked around and it took Ovie snapping his fingers for him to jerk his gaze to him. 

"They take stick back with them. Want one of Sammy's or Holt's?"

Flower made a distressed sound, watching while Ovie pulled out his phone and texted someone. He began to prowl back and forth in front of the net, hand still trying to hold a stick he didn't have. Some small part of his mind informed him this was irrational and stupid and _he_ was stupid for needing to nest to start with. Sure, it was considered normal for it to happen but he didn't like it, didn't want it, and more, was entirely upset it existed at all. He was upset... over a stick. A stick he knew would be waiting for him back home. Home... it hadn't truly felt like home at all since he'd arrived there. Pittsburgh had been home. Las Vegas felt like... perhaps like a general hotel versus how this nest felt like a B&B. It was sad that his own team didn't even feel that way to him.

He came to a stop on the blue sheet Holts had clearly set up to be reminiscent of the crease and squatted, huddling there. Sad sounds began to bubble up and no amount of Ovie's words managed to formulate into anything substantial enough to make sense to his mind. He whined and whimpered and made sounds that reminded his brain of a lost kitten and no amount of telling himself this was stupid forced them to stop. 

The door opened and instantly, he scrambled backwards, trying to block Ovie from view, all but falling on him in his haste, the blankets tripping him up the way ice wouldn't have. 

"Jesus... could hear you all the way down the hall, bud." Dowd stood there, someone else hovering behind him. Both men held bags from McDonalds. "We brought some stuff back for you guys. Holts says there's a fridge in here somewhere, maybe let Ovie find it later."

They set their bags down and Flower crouched in front of Ovie, one hand resting on him, keeping him behind him, staring suspiciously at the two huddled in the doorway.

"We won't take him away, promise. Sad enough your team's being shits about it. We got you." These words came from the guy behind Dowd and when he noticed the attention Flower was giving him, he waved a little. "I'm Garney... he's Dowder. Friends, promise. Definitely not here to take Ovie away."

"Yeah, you can borrow him. Just... give him back for games or we're all fucked." Dowd laughed and Flower blinked at the sound of it, tipping his head a little as he slowly calmed, no longer deeming them a true threat. He stood and started toward them.

"Go, boys." Ovie's voice came from behind him and while it held authority, it also held affection and Flower stopped short of following them out into the hallway, instead pushing the door closed and gathering up the bags to bring back to the nest. This time, he settled in beside Ovie and began ripping open bags, spilling the contents out until Ovie took the bags from him and gently extracted the food items, ensuring no more fries ended up in the blankets. 

He unwrapped a burger and held it out to Flower. "Eat. Need food or pass out and need doctor. Not good."

Flower took the proffered burger and set to finding the fries, carefully piling them inside the bun and then scarfing it all down like he would die if he didn't. The process was repeated a second time and then he was handed a water bottle which he sucked dry in a matter of seconds before retreating to the back of the net, tugging Ovie's sleeve. 

Ovie came with him and Flower curled up, letting Ovie cover him and sit right next to him as he drifted off to sleep.

When he woke, he felt even worse. He ached and his skin buzzed. He was both hot and cold. He wanted to scream and cry and wanted to burrow into the blankets and explode from the room and create havoc. His hands itched to do something, though he had no idea what. His bladder ached but so did his cock, rock hard and insistent and squirming around in the covers did nothing to alleviate any of it. 

"Flower... get up. Need water and restroom. Come."

The last word probably had the least desirable effect, causing Flower to squirm even more, his mind hyper-focused on only that need as he rolled in the covers, squirming like crazy, trying to gain something he needed, relief to any of what was happening to him. Order was irrelevant. 

Arms encircled him and hauled him from the nest. "I need restroom, you too. Now." He was settled on his feet and then led outside and down the hall to the locker room and then to the off-shoot room where the restrooms were. Ovie immediately went to take a piss while Flower stood there, toes curled in socks he didn't remember putting on, all of his needs trying to outweigh the other. He settled on scratching at his arms through the jersey he wore while making small huffing sounds as he deliberated. 

It took Ovie finishing up and coming to guide him to the urinal for one need to outweigh any of the others and even then Ovie ended up helping him with the tie on the shorts so he could get everything out of the way to relieve himself. 

Presented with the opportunity to take a piss, his body got in gear and let some of his blood meander somewhere other than his dick so he could go. He went for what felt like forever before he hardened again and that need became more pressing. His hips rocked and he whined. His world narrowed down to how hot he felt and how hard he was and it felt impossible to figure anything else out. 

He knew they were walking, distinctly heard doors opening and closing, but all he could think about was getting off. He found himself in the nest and promptly began losing his clothing. Entirely naked from the waist down, he began to squirm in the covers again, not stopping until Ovie's hands settled on his hips, tugging him upright. Ovie dropped down onto the blankets and Flower scrambled over him, settling astride him and clinging, burrowing in against his neck as he rocked. 

"Old goalie in Russia do this... need from his team. Beg until we all do. So sad until we give... do you need now?"

Flower nodded frantically, now outright humping against Ovie's clearly hard cock as he made little sad sounds.

"Not sound sad, Flower. We do what needed. Anything."

Flower's fingers went for Ovie's sweats, yanked and pulled until they were out of the way and he came into direct contact with his warm flesh. He pushed until Ovie was flat on his back and stretched out over him, his hips moving quickly, their lengths rubbing in a way that satisfied a lot inside Flower. He curled protectively over Ovie and rutted against him, quick little jerks of his hips that made him feel so good inside. Ovie's hands on his back turned his sad little sounds into happy ones and the deep groan coupled with Ovie's cock kicking against his as Ovie came surged something else entirely within him. He fucked against the mess, making all the happy sounds in the world until he stilled and gave one final jerk of his hips, his own cum joining Ovie's between them. 

His orgasm was long, drawn out in a way he'd never experienced before. When he was done, he lay on top of Ovie, just existing for a while. He peeled himself off when he grew hungry, prowling around until he found the fridge and removing the food Ovie had clearly put in there at some point last night. They ate cold hamburgers and sipped flat soda and Ovie took Flower back to the showers to clean them both of the dried mess of their combined cum. 

Being cleaned riled Flower up again and he stood under the spray and let Ovie take care of him, his hand quick and efficient on his cock, his mouth better near the end and when he came, there was nothing to wash down the drain as he gave it all to Ovie instead.

Ovie took a bag from one of the other stalls with them when they went this time and he stared curiously at it until Ovie opened it for him to see. Inside there were random toiletries, but also a strand of condoms and a bottle of lube. He poked around at them with one finger and then looked up at Ovie, his head tilted, curious. 

"In case you want, we have what is needed."

Oh, Flower wanted that alright. He hadn't had _that_ in years. Sure, he'd been with women, even somewhat recently. But he hadn't been thoroughly fucked in years. Not since... well, since Pittsburgh. He didn't realize he was making a soft keening sound until Ovie tugged him down and tucked him into his nest, curling up around him, a solid protective weight over him.

They remained like that for hours, Flower drifting in and out of sleep until he woke as he had that morning, needy and already rutting the covers, though this time Ovie's arms were still around him and his lips were soft on his shoulder. 

"Need you to take what you need," Ovie murmured to him, his hips giving one gentle rock against Flower's backside before he released him. Flower pulled himself into a crouch and peered out of the nest, surveying the room and then snatching up the pouch and dumping it on Ovie's chest. Leaving him to deal with it, he made a brief circuit of the room and came back, keening happily to see Ovie was uncovered, _very_ hard, and rolling a condom onto himself. 

As he had before, he climbed over Ovie, barely giving him time to lube up before he began to try to get Ovie into himself. He huffed and writhed, whined and whimpered as he tried desperately to get his cock inside him in his excitement. 

"Hang on." It took Ovie's hand on his hips, calming him and then very _very_ slowly lowering him down on his cock for his body to open up and accept him. Even then he knew it was only because he kept up a fairly consistent self-pleasuring schedule that involved some serious prostate stimulation.

He seated himself fully and tipped his head back, sensation overwhelming everything else. He was stretched open, filled, warm but not hot. His skin didn't buzz or ache and he just sat there with Ovie's dick in him, making little tiny pleasured noises, his cock slowly filling until he was harder than he'd been in a very long time. His toes curled and he let go of the last hold over himself he had, just released the reigns and freed himself and in his relief, he began to move, his hips rocking as he rode Ovie's dick, pressing it to his prostate with every deep rock of his hips. He panted and whimpered in the way that meant good things were happening and fucked until he needed something more. One word bubbled up past everything else and he managed a whined little, " _Please_."

Ovie rolled them over then, shifted him into the nest of blankets and spread Flower's legs even wider, buried himself even deeper, and once he had his full attention, began to fuck him like he damn well meant it. Every thrust was jarring, wonderful, fulfilling in a way that made him keen, high and long. His cock strained and his body prepped itself for the orgasm of a lifetime. He writhed under Ovie's powerful thrusts, pawed at him and arched and when he pegged his prostate dead-on, Flower held the position, trembling, crying out with every single drive up into his body.

He came so hard he actually screamed, so powerfully he bucked with every single pulse of cum that left him. It went on and on, wracking him until he couldn't breathe and it was only Ovie shoving in hard and groaning above him that let him draw air back into his lungs as he felt the pulse of Ovie's cock buried deep inside him.

They came down together, Ovie curled protectively over him and Flower drifting in a sea of semi-consciousness, feeling completely at ease. His thoughts were easier, less mired in sludge than they had been. He wasn't out of the woods by any means, but he would be soon now that he'd relaxed and been taken care of. 

He let himself drift off into a blissful half-aware state and hung there for most of the afternoon. He heard Dowder and Garney come back and leave again and he took soup when it was offered, water when it was plied on him, and he didn't even bother to chase away a few of the players when they came to see if Ovie would be in the game tonight. He just listened, turned his head and watched them talk, and drifted peacefully in his existence. 

When Ovie told him it was time for him to go for the game, he just nodded and curled up in his nest and Ovie covered him with blankets and tucked his practice jersey in with him. 

When he woke next it was to Ovie dropping down beside him and he rolled over and stretched, reaching for his arm and rubbing it lightly. He breathed out, "Did you win?" and surprised himself with the ability to speak. He blinked up at Ovie and received a tired smile. "Yeah." 

Flower smiled at him and struggled to sit up, Ovie reaching to help him. He leaned tiredly on him and Ovie rubbed his shoulder, kissing the top of his head. 

"Not nest anymore then?"

"Not nesting," Flower confirmed, drawing in a breath and slowly releasing it.

"Will be exhausted for day Holts says... can stay with me or him until tomorrow. Meet team on road, yes?"

Flower nodded, definitely not feeling up to leaving right then and maybe not wanting to leave Ovie's side either. "It's okay if I go with you?"

"Very."

Ovie got up and gathered a few things from the nest. Flower began to take apart the pieces he knew needed to be washed and Ovie let him do it. Stray fries were cleaned up and one used condom was deposited into the trashcan. 

Clad in Ovie's practice jersey, he trailed after Ovie and out of the rink, nearly immediately being swarmed by press, some looking about as bedraggled as he did, clearly having been hanging around waiting on him to emerge. He stood up straighter even as Ovie came back for him, barking at the press to back off. Flower just placed a hand on Ovie's arm and faced the cameras. "One statement is all you get. I went into the goalie nesting period and it was not advisable to move me. The Capitals were kind enough to loan me everything I needed and provide me with a nesting area. My gratitude to them is endless." He gave a small nod and turned away, ignoring the pressure for extra questions, walking with Ovie toward his car. He got in and they left in record time.

The drive was easy enough and the house was expansive, though not unlike Flower had expected for the Captain of the Capitals. Ovie took him to bathe first and then to his bedroom where he simply tugged him down without comment, curling up with him and murmuring about nourishment in the morning. 

Flower slept soundly, better than he had in any recent memory and when he woke Ovie had made them an expansive breakfast that met all their dietary requirements and it felt amazing to be cared about this much. It both settled him and filled him with regrets. His own team hadn't cared to do this for him and here Ovie was, still taking care of him out the other side of his nesting. 

He placed his fork on his plate and studied Ovie across the table until he looked up at and arched an eyebrow. "I'd keep you if I could. You've been so good to me when you absolutely didn't have to be."

Ovie pointed his fork at him. " _You_ can keep me. I come for nesting if you need me. Other times too if schedule allow. Your team... sad state. Fix."

"One man cannot fix something so broken."

"Not as broken as you think." Ovie stuffed a bite of omelet in his mouth, chewed, swallowed and continued. "Just need leader again. Direction. Purpose. Then be just fine."

Flower nodded, conceding the point to the man who'd just saved his ass from a lonely nest and aching soul. 

When they finished eating and Flower's cab arrived, Ovie plied him with the practice jersey and a big long hug. "I here when need. You come."

"Here for you, too... promise." Flower squeezed him soundly and stepped back, less than prepared to leave, but knowing he had to. 

He settled in the cab and tucked the jersey away. He'd come back, he knew he would. Maybe in the off season, maybe sooner, but definitely before he felt like he had before. He'd come back because he'd found something that felt close to home in a team that wasn't even his. He'd left Pittsburgh sad, he'd parted ways and left friends to become acquaintances there. He wouldn't repeat that mistake here. He'd let home reside in the people, not the place and he'd wait. Wait on a Captain. Wait on a team that wanted him as much as he wanted to be a part of them. Wait on his future to rise up and meet him.

He'd wait and he'd remember the kindness that been extended to him here and he'd remember it when Holtby needed someone just as much as he had.

**Author's Note:**

> To the requesting user: I didn't quite manage the "has always nested with his Captain" part. Sometimes characters don't cooperate. I hope it's okay still and I hope you find this fic!


End file.
